Rooftops
by Anisoka99
Summary: After the apartment explodes, Bruce finds Jason. Help is refused, things are said, and people get hurt. T for violence, Jason ranting, and Jason abusing.
1. Chapter 1

**This just came to me. I really wanted to recreate the scene where Jay and Bruce face off. And, I am soo sorry to say this, but I absolutely love writing for the Joker! He is my favorite villain of all time! Its the sadistic unpredictability that makes him easy for me to write without having to think about it. **

**When it comes to Jason, I actually understand his situation. I understand him. He has this mask that he puts on for the world of this badass anti-hero, but is really just a boy who has been through all his trauma and pain, and just wants someone to understand him. And what is with people saying he has white hair? He doesn't in the movie. Not at all.**

**Disclaimer: I really do want to say I own Jason, the Joker, Bruce, and all them Bats, but I don't. This will be difficult to write...and I dearly hope that IS a cathedral.**

* * *

**Third Person**

_*Flashback*_

_Bruce stood in Crime Alley, where he met Jason. He remembered walking to the Batmobile, and seeing a boy of about nine stealing the tires of the car. Jason had been so young, but could never be mistaken as innocent. He had so much anger in him, so much pain. Being Robin had been an outlet for his anger, but he had to be watched carefully so he didn't go too far._

_"Hello. So glad you could make it." It was him. Bruce turned around, and saw his nineteen year old son standing at the entrance to the alley. He had grown a lot taller, more muscular, and was heavily armed._

_"This ends tonight. All of it." Bruce said softly._

_"Nobody knows that better than me." He threw six shurikens at Bruce, who flipped backwards and landed behind a garbage bin. He stuck two rockets onto the side. They activated, sending the bin towards Jason. The boy leapt up into the air, and pushed off the wall. Bruce threw a line at him, wrapping it around his ankles. Jason was slammed into the cement. Bruce heard a groan of pain as the boy pushed himself up and twisted to look at his father._

_"You and your gadgets." He laughed, cutting the line, sending a shock through his mentor's body. Jason ran towards Bruce, saying, "you're not the only one with toys." Batman threw four explosive pellets at Hood's feet. He looked down, and realized what they were. "Crap!" He was thrown into the air as the pellets exploded. He pushed off the side of one building, and caught on to the fire escape of the one across from him._

_At the top, Batman caught up to his son, tackling him to the ground. Jason stabbed his knife into the ground, nailing the cape there. He punched Bruce twice before the Bat grabbed the knife and leapt to his feet, punching him three times and scratching Jason's helmet twice. The boy grabbed his knife and flipped backwards, sliding to the edge of the building before running at his father and getting flipped and punched several times by the older man. The two struggled with their knives in the air. _

_Jason dropped his knife, and caught it with the other hand, slicing off the Bat's utility belt. Batman took a stab at Jason, who retaliated and sliced into the side of the cowl. He grunted, raising a hand to the area. Red Hood tossed his knife to the other hand, and Batman lunged at him, taking hold of his waist and sending them both plunging to the roof of the Cathedral. _

_Jason hit the arm of a stone statue, crying out in pain as two of his left ribs were broken, and fell to the roof, landing on his back and bouncing over on his stomach. He grunted in pain, one arm supporting him as he held his side. As Bruce approached, he whirled around, pulling off the cowl and flipping backwards, grabbing his knife in the process._

_He laughed, "Look at you." He tossed Bruce his cowl._

_"I guess we should keep it even." He reached to the back of the helmet and pressed the release, pulling it off and letting it fall to the ground. The face that was revealed was masked, but still showed enough. The boy had definitely aged. _

_"Jason." Bruce said, staring softly at his youngest son._

_"Yes." The son answered. A flash of lightning lit the sky, showing Bruce an image of Robin after he was murdered by the Joker. The scratches, blood, mask, costume tears, everything._

_"I don't want to fight you." The father said._

_"All evidence to the contrary." Hadn't the man just been fighting him a second ago? Before he knew? And now he wants to stop? _

_"Please. I can help you. I know what happened." The father pleaded. He couldn't do anything. And he knew what happened. Probably because Ra's told him everything._

_"Oh, you got to talking with Ra's huh? Well, does it make it easier for you to think that my little dip in his fountain of youth turned me rabid? Or is this just the real me?" The son kicked his scarlet helmet at his father, who stopped it with his boot. With the press of a button, the helmet exploded, causing Bruce to be thrown sideways and a statue to fall from its alcove. Jason ran to him. Batman pulled his cowl back on, and aimed a kick at his son, who dodged, and jumped forward, pushing them both out of the path of the enormous statue. The boy flipped neatly behind Batman, and held his knife to his throat._

_"Tell me. What bothers you more? That your greatest failure has returned from the grave? Or that I've become a better Batman than you?" Batman seized Jason's arms and flipped him, keeping the knife away from him._

_You're ruling through intimidation and murder. You're just another criminal." The two wrestled over the knife, and Jason pushed it into the cement._

_"I'm what this city needs." He ran behind Batman and looped a retracting cable around his shoulders. The cable latched onto an arch, and pulled the man up, slamming his right side into the stone, eliciting a cry of pain. He held onto his side, pulling himself up onto the top of the arch. Jason was climbing up to continue his attack, but Batman didn't notice. The boy leapt onto him, punching him several times. _

_He caught the fist after the first five hard strikes, and punched Jason in the face with twice as much force as before. Using the momentary lack of balance, he jumped up and pushed his son into the stone wall._

_"Getting goodies all over. We're just a couple of walking armories!" The boy said, watching his father retrieve a lighter from his glove._

_"Maybe so, but let's see how you do without your toys." His eyes widened, and Batman dropped the flame onto Jason's leather jacket, which quickly caught fire and is thrown to the courtyard two hundred feet beneath them. He punched his father, who fell backwards off the edge, catching hold of the side just in time. The boy tossed his cable again, and swung toward another building, heading for his apartment. Batman grabbed hold of his feet, and was tossed into a window. He chased his son around the building, and leaped across a fifteen foot gap, hitting Jason in the midsection and sending him crashing into the bathtub._

**Jason's POV**

"Enough! It's over!" He shouts. I lunge out of the bathtub, attempting to punch him. My father grabs my arm and flings me sideways into the wall of my bathroom. My injured ribs bounce off the tile, and toward dad, who releases my arm and sends his fist into my stomach. I double over, and all my air is knocked out of me, and he punches me again, taking the little amount of air I regained and forcing it out. I am pushed face first into the wall, breaking the tile. I grab a small piece shaped like a knife.

Turning around, I swing it around twice before he punches me again. I flip backwards, landing by the toilet, and dart forward for another punch. Instead, my fist slams into the tile AGAIN, and he punches my stomach AGAIN! My ribs are hurting so bad right now. I swallow the pain, and focus on my objective: make my dad understand why I wanted the Joker dead, and make dad kill him.

Dad wraps his arm around my neck, and sends me flying into the sink, and then the toilet. I push myself up, and face him again. I am able to block his fist heading toward my head. But I can't block the fourth punch to the stomach, or the knee to my face, or the second punch to the side of my head. He flings me around, slamming me into the wall again.

"You say you wanna be better than me. But it won't happen, not like this!" With one hand, he hits me, sending me through the weak wall, and flying across the room, where I hit the other wall, and fall to the ground. Did I really provoke this much force? It hurts a lot. He knows what I have been through, and he still uses this much strength against me?

"I know I failed you, but I tried to save you Jason, I'm, I'm trying to save you now." He said, walking forward to stand beside my body. I pull one of my guns from its holster strapped to my back.

"Is that what you think this is about? I don't know what clouds your judgement more: your guilt, or your antiquated sense of morality. Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me. But why? Why, on God's earth, is he still alive?" I turn to a closet door, and kick it down, revealing the Joker tied to a chair. He looks up and starts laughing, and then jumps forward with his chair.

"Gotta give the boy points! He came all this way to make this shindig happen! So, who's got a camera? Ooh ooh, get one with me and the kid first, then you and me, then the three of us, and then one with the crowbar, then-" I hit him in the head with my gun, sending him flying a few feet. Then, I lean down and press the gun to his head.

"You'll be as quiet as possible, or I'll put one in your lap first."

Party pooper. No cake for you." The clown grumbles. Too bad for him, he doesn't get to beat anyone with that damn crowbar tonight. Not now, not ever if I can help it. I stand up, but keep my gun pointed at the Joker. I face my father, and rein in my emotions.

"Ignoring what he's done in the past, blindly, stupidly disregarding the entire graveyards he's filled, the thousands who've suffered, the friends he's crippled. Y'know, I thought, I thought I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt." I said. Why was it me? I thought he cared about me. He took me in off the streets, trained me, and cared for me when I was injured or sick. The one time I really needed him. The one time I could barely move because of the pain, he wasn't there. I woke up in a casket. Without my suit, belt, or anything to show that I had been Robin. I had dug myself out of my own damn grave! And I was in Gotham for three years, an injured boy calling for his father, before Talia dropped me in the Lazarus Pit. He had never been there for me. He hadn't saved me.

"If it'd been you that he'd beat to a bloody pulp, if he had taken you from this world, I would have done nothing but search the planet for this pathetic pile of evil, death worshipping garbage! And sent him off to hell!" My father had no idea how painful that ordeal was for me. If he had undergone that, I would have killed the Joker. Slowly and painfully.

"You don't understand. I don't think you've ever understood." What? What don't I understand?

"What? Your moral code just won't allow for that? It's too HARD to cross that line?"

"No! God almighty, no. It'd be too damned easy. All I've ever wanted to do is kill him. A day doesn't go by that I don't think about subjecting him to every horrendous torture he's dealt out to others, and then, end him." Why hadn't he? What was stopping him?

"Aww, so you do think about me." Joker said. Dad and I ignored him, too busy to pay him any attention.

"But if I do that, if I allow myself to go down into that place, I'll never come back." Is that it?

"Why? I'm not talking about killing Scarecrow, or Penguin, or Dent. I'm talking about him. Just him. And doing it because, because he took me away from you." I felt tears gathering at the corners of my eyes. He straightened, looking me in the eyes.

"I can't. I'm sorry." No. This will come out with either me or the Joker dead. He will make his decision now.

"That is so sweet." The Joker said. I reached behind me to grab my other gun.

"Well you won't have a choice." I threw the gun as my father, and watched him catch it. He looked at me, then the gun, and seemed to understand.

"I won't-" he started. Yes he will.

"This is what it's all been about. This. You and me and him. Now is the time you decide!" I slammed my foot down on the Joker's chair, and pulled him up, pointing my gun at his head. "If you won't kill this psychotic piece of filth, I will. And if you want to stop me, you're gonna have to kill me." I hadn't meant to shout, but he needed to make this choice.

"You know I won't-" Yes. I know. But he will.

"I'm gonna blow his deranged brains out. And if you wanna stop it, you're gonna have to shoot me. Right in my face." He wouldn't. I hope he will simply choose to kill the clown.

"This is turning out even better than I'd hoped." Joker was smiling that creepy smile. I saw the pain and conflict in Dad's eyes behind the white lenses. He dropped the gun to the floor and walked away. No! This is not going to end with the three of us alive. No.

"It's him or me. You have to decide." He kept walking, not even acknowledging me.

"Decide now! Do it. Him or me? Decide!" I aimed my gun at his back, watching him walk away. I pulled the trigger. He waited until the bullet was about to hit him to dodge and throw a Batarang, which lodged in my gun. The gun exploded in my hand, causing a scream of pain. I dropped the Joker, holding my bloody hand. My ribs screamed at the sudden movement. A piece of shrapnel from the weapon had sliced into my left side below my ribs. The Joker lay there laughing, and Dad was watching me. Doing nothing to help.

"I can't believe you got him! You expert, rootin-tootin, eagle-eyed, goth-loving, marksman! I love it! You managed to find a way to win, and everybody still loses!" I rose to my feet during Joker's little speech, and reach into my pocket for the controller to the bomb in my fireplace. I press the button. The bomb timer starts counting down from twenty seconds.

Dad goes to deactivate it, but Joker jumps him from behind, shoving him to the floor and choking him. I am lying against the wall holding my ribs. Fifteen seconds left.

"No, don't spoil it! This is better! I'm the only one who's going to get what he wants tonight! Yes! Bing bang boom! We all go out together! Don't you just love a happy ending?" He is finally knocked out by dad, who immediately runs to me and yanks me up by the front of my shirt and pulls me toward the door. Five, four, three, two, one. We are almost there when the room explodes. The last thing I see is the ceiling collapsing on me, and my world goes dark.

**Okay, so that was my attempt at Jason. Reviews please? Chapter coming sometime this week, hopefully before Thursday. On vacation for two weeks starting Thursday. Review and Follow plz!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Jason POV

I lie on my stomach under a heavy pile of debris, and my left side feels wet. 'Probably blood,' I think. I attempt to rub my eyes, and find that my injured hand is trapped under a part of the wall. Faintly, I hear someone shifting through the rubble, and someone, no, the Joker laughing. I hear whoever is moving the rubble getting closer, and I let out a groan of pain. My ribs are pressed against the floor, and the ceiling is crushing them.

"Jason?" It's my father. I feel the ceiling get a little lighter, and I realize he is trying to dig me out of the rubble. As soon as I get to my other apartment, I am taking some pain medication and sleeping. The piece of wall is pulled off of my hand, and I assume my dad saw it, because I hear him starting to dig faster.

He lifts the last piece of ceiling, and I take a deep breath. He starts to kneel down beside me, but I shove him away and stand up.

"Jase-" He begins.

"Leave me alone," I tell him. Hurt flashes across his face, but he backs away, allowing me to walk toward the stairs. I feel him watching me as soon as I leave the building. When I look up to where my home used to be, I see him standing at the edge, contrasting against the grey debris.

The night is cool, I notice, with a nice breeze. Weather in Gotham is unpredictable. Wait five to ten minutes, and it is sure to change. I own another place about eight blocks over, and a stocked warehouse down by the docks sometimes serves as a safe house. 'I'll go to the warehouse tonight.' I'll be able to throw Dad off if I disappear for a few days.

When I arrive, I head immediately to the first aid case I keep near the three thin blankets that serve as a bed. I sterilize and bandage my hand and shrapnel cut, but there isn't much I can do for my ribs. I end up taking two pain pills. There is still crime to stop, but tonight, I need to rest. 'Absolutely no point in worsening any injuries' I think. As I close my eyes, I think about my father, and wonder what he is doing.

Bruce POV

I watch Jason walk away, and can't help but worry about him. Will he be able to treat his injuries? Does he have a place to sleep? I never saw a bed in his now destroyed apartment. But knowing Jason, he probably has several safe houses all around the city. I might ask Dick if he has a place in Bludhaven.

I drop off Joker in Arkham Asylum with three broken ribs and many bruises. None came from me, I noticed. They looked like they were inflicted with a crowbar. Yep. It was Jason all right.

When I arrive home, Dick is in the cave, waiting. He looks up hopefully, and I hate to destroy that hope. So I shake my head, change out of my costume, and walk upstairs to my bedroom.

As I lie in bed, I wonder again if my youngest is alright. He has probably cleaned and bandaged both his hand and his ribs. I shudder at the thought of his bloodied hand. I hadn't meant to hurt him, only disarm him. To be fair, he shot at me first. I remember the first time he was shot. It wasn't bad, but he was in a lot of pain.

It's a cold winter night in Gotham. Down at the docks, Robin and I engage some of Black Masks crew unloading weapon shipments. I dodge bullet after bullet, throwing Batarangs and keeping an eye on Robin. Suddenly, I hear him cry out in pain. I look over, and see him duck behind some heavy crates, holding his side. I turn my attention back to the crew, throwing an anesthetic gas bomb at them and knocking them unconscious. I run to Robin's side, and kneel down beside him. He moves his hand, and I can see a small hole. Pressing the button to summon the Batmobile, I lift my son into my arms. Tears of pain are beginning to leak through the sides of the mask. As the black car arrives, I walk towards it and lower Robin into the passenger seat. I jump in the other side, and the car immediately heads back towards the manor. When we arrive, Alfred is waiting in the med bay, and takes a few minutes to remove the bullet and sew the wound. He leaves afterward, nodding to me and allowing me in. Jason lay on the table, asleep. He looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb him. However, as soon as I sat down, his green eyes opened. I took his hand, and asked how he felt. 'Like I got shot', was his reply. I had laughed at this, and hugged him carefully. I remember lifting him and holding him in my arms, and then going upstairs to his room, helping him remove his costume, and lying with his head on my chest.

I hadn't appreciated that little time I had with him until he was gone. He died at fifteen, beaten half to death by the Joker with a crowbar, and then blown up. If I had gotten there in time, he would still be in the house. I could be walking down the hall to his room, just to see him asleep. He looks so different now. His face isn't as boyish. He had gotten so much more muscular, taller, and had a much deeper voice. He was so angry and emotional tonight. There were a lot of things I could have done differently tonight. His hand, his ribs, and his cut were all my fault. I had injured him, after I had sworn five years ago that I would do anything to get him back. His death nearly killed me. I remember sitting in the ash, holding his limp and cold body to my chest, and weeping. Joker had been forgotten in my grief. I had postponed the funeral three times because I couldn't bear to see him lowered into the ground. I spent hours just holding him, watching for a sign he might be alive. I had even considered putting him in the Lazarus pit, despite what I believed about them. All I wanted was my son back. To hold him. To hug him. To hear him curse like a sailor. I had that chance tonight, but I blew it completely.

As I fall asleep, I think about my son. Is he thinking about me? Is he alright?

Jason POV

When I wake up, I change the bandage on my side, and head to a nearby diner for breakfast. While I eat my egg and sausage biscuit, I imagine my father eating with me as he did when I was Robin: black coffee, blueberry pancakes, eggs, and sausage. I always wanted strawberry, and Dad wanted blueberry. As I finish, the waitress walks up with my bill. I pay, and leave the restaurant. While I walk back to the warehouse, I think about what happened last night. About what I had asked my dad to do: kill me. I had a good reason, I tell myself. He didn't avenge me, he didn't care enough to kill that sadistic clown. And when I tried to avenge myself, he attacked me to defend Joker. And when he found out who was under the helmet, he stopped for maybe 15 seconds, and then set my jacket on fire. And then, on top of everything else, I have to detonate my apartment!

I pull myself out of my thoughts, and find myself in a dead end alley. As I turn around to leave, a five thugs enter and point their guns at me. Ten guns? Do they really think that will help them?

"Our boss wants you dead Hood."

"Tell him thanks, but no thanks," I retort, slowly reaching for my remaining gun. I feel the barrel of another gun pressing into my back, directly on my broken ribs. Holding back a groan, I drop my hands to my sides.

"I don't think you have a choice, _Jason_."


End file.
